The Light That I Know
by Eve Davidson
Summary: Ashley's little private freak out when she discovers Craig used her song without giving her credit.


Spinner was listening to something, and even with the glare off the CD case I thought I knew what it was. Craig's CD. Spinner mock cowered away from me when I asked him what he was listening to.

"Craig's CD. Don't hit me," I did tend to hit people, well, men. Boys, really. They're boys. I thought of the times I'd hit Craig, kidding sometimes, sometimes more serious than he knew, and once, on the stage at Christmastime in grade 10, I was deadly serious and he knew it. But he wasn't the only one I'd hit.

"Oh, it dropped yesterday?" I said, striving for casual. I was trying not to let these things bother me. Craig didn't bother me. I'd left him, after all. And now I was back at Degrassi, finishing some things up. It was okay. It was my path. I was fine. I tossed my hair back and took the CD from Spinner.

"Awkward posing," I said, still trying to sound light. I looked through the glare at the picture of Craig from grade 11, and I remembered the day those were taken. His intense stare, the hair hanging across his forehead. That was just before the manic. Just before my dad's wedding. Well, he'd been showing signs before that. I could see them now. It's funny what you can see when you're out of the eye of the storm.

"He wrote these in rehab?" I said, and Spinner said no, not one song.

" 'My Window' he didn't write that in rehab. It sounds different than the rest of them," he said, and I gazed at Spinner. Spinner had really changed. He was still the same essential goof, but some of the junior high bully meanness was gone. Most of it. I blinked. My God. Had Spinner _grown up_?

" 'My Window'?" I said. I felt cold, ice in my veins. That was my song. I wrote it. I told Spinner that.

"You mean he didn't credit you?" he said, and I shook my head, pressed my lips together. It was okay. It was one song. I could write more, I could…

Jimmy wheeled into the room, his face a wide grin. I smiled, too. I loved to see Jimmy happy. It was okay. The song. Not being with Craig. Being with Jimmy. Being in school. Still. It was all alright.

"Craig gave me a shout out on his CD," Jimmy said, and I could hear the thrill in his voice. I closed my eyes, breathed out my nose. It didn't bother me that Craig was a rock star and that everyone, Jimmy and Spinner and ditzy grade nine girls, that everyone was treating him like one. I wasn't that petty.

"Glad someone got one," I said, my voice flat. Jimmy looked over at me, concern shrinking his smile.

"He used my song without crediting me," I said.

"Oh, no. Ash," Jimmy said, and the smile was all the way gone. I tossed my hair.

"It's okay. I'll write more," I said, smiling. My brave brave smile. I watched Toby breeze into the room. He was doing student government, running various activities and shows that were going on. He was a man with a mission.

"Good. You're going to have to. I'm signing you up for the talent show," he said, and I smiled at him despite feeling tears starting. I breathed, and I nodded. I'd do that. I'd be in the show.

Toby breezed out, notes on a clipboard, meetings to go to. I watched him go, his short sturdy figure filling the doorframe for a second. Jimmy was looking at his own copy of Craig's CD, looking at the liner notes and gazing at his name. Spinner was listening to it with one ear bud in, one out so he could still hear us. I looked at the ear bud that lay on the table, connected by the little white string. I could hear Craig's voice coming out of it, tinny, like a voice lost in a bottle. I heard the song, the one he did at the club when he was in Toronto that time. Something about drowning. I could feel the waves lapping over me, the salt water in my mouth. Drowning.

"I'll be right back," I said, standing up, hearing my chair scrape across the floor, the chalkboard screech. Spinner and Jimmy glanced up at me. I left.

I could feel my hair streaming out behind me. I still wasn't used to this long hair, the curls tangling in the wind. I heard the click of my boot heels on the floor, saw my frantic reflection in the glass in the door. I walked on, fast, heading toward the girls' room, heading where I could be alone. I pushed on the door and heard the double thwap as it hit the wall and then the jam. The row of mirrors that had reflected my face since grade seven, I gave myself a cursory glance. Too much make-up. Too long hair. Strained smile. It was me, alright.

I went into a stall, shut the door, sat on the closed toilet and drew my knees up and hugged them. My song. 'My Window'. It was mine. Mine. I felt the tears rising, threatening my carefully applied make-up. I felt the hitches in my chest. Craig did everything wrong. Everything. He had a mental illness. He did drugs. He left school. Yet, yet. He got to be the rock star. He got to be lauded and applauded wherever he went. It was my song. I felt the tears wet on my cheeks. How could he do this to me?

I lowered my head, hitching sobbing. What was I doing here? Why did I come back here? I was too old. This wasn't where I belonged. It was my music, too. I didn't want to keep sitting in these boring classes while Craig got to tour, while Craig got to sing my song and take all the credit. I didn't know what I was doing with Jimmy. I didn't know what I was doing at all.


End file.
